Disclaimer: This fanfic is an adaptation of the novel of the same name by W. Somerset Maugham. Neither "Inuyasha" nor the "Painted Veil" belong to me
12,751 steps.
That is what took Sesshomaru to reach the wooden water wheel in front of him, past a small hill, and a small cypress grove. The structure, though old, was big enough to carry a decent amount of water, and its location uphill proved convenient to deliver water to Paibi, about three and a half miles down river.
He got wind of the water works after a grateful patient, overjoyed to have recovered to what amounted to a death sentence, told him of a small mill uphill when he overheard Miroku complain about the quality of the local water. 'Nobody gets sick in Huangyancun' he said - but he had come to the village for the wedding of a niece and had gotten violently sick with cholera. He was one of the fortunate ones - his sister and father had perished after just a couple of days. Thankfully, his wife and children remained at their village, tending to their small subsistence farm and managed to avoid the same fate.
So they trekked upriver, following the rough map that contained the instructions that the man had given Miroku, who was far more familiar with the territory. After a couple wrong turns, they managed to get to the site after hiking for an hour at a good pace. Miroku, a man far more gregarious that he would ever be, could not contain his excitement.
"Dr. Nakamura, look at that beauty! This should be big enough to tend the needs of the village - and though it is a little bit far, we have plenty of bamboo at the shore to pipe it down" Taking his hat off and with a big grin, he put his hands on his hips and breathed in. "This is a happy day, my good doctor. I am almost as happy as the day I found out my lovely Sango had not taken her vows".
Sesshomaru could not help but tease: "Miroku, if she could not even make promises to God, what makes you think you have a chance?"
Miroku laughed: "My good looks and my charming personality, of course! After all, what is a man without a good woman at his side? I hope to find one just as fine as yours, Dr. Nakamura!"
Sesshomaru tensed when he heard his wife's name, and abruptly changed the subject. "Miroku, stop with the matrimonial talk and let's finish before it gets late". Opening his small doctor's bag, he grabbed a small metallic ladle and proceeded to fill several glass containers with water samples. A little crestfallen at his boss' sudden change in attitude, Miroku proceeded to update the sketch of his makeshift map, making notes of the geographic characteristics of the area.
After their tasks were done, both men walked to the village mostly in silence, except to comment on small alterations of the plans or to check the small cottages that peppered the route for signs of the illness. Miroku walked absorbed in thoughts of a lovely and shy maiden whose strength of character and devotion to service had enamoured him, while his boss, despite his efforts in focusing on the project at hand, could not help have his thoughts stray to Kagome.
He blamed his treacherous heart, one that had refused, repeatedly, to follow the commands of his mind and dignity. Sesshomaru seethed when he remembered his utter foolishness - how he had left work early to cheer his wife with flowers and a walk on the promenade near the harbor, only to find a strange hat on the settee and furious pants coming out of their bedroom door.
Sesshomaru took pride in his decency and honor - and both were trampled by his cheating wife. A shallow, foolish, nonsensical woman, who paradoxically had managed to endear herself to the children at the ward in a matter of a few days, despite not speaking an iota of Chinese. A spoiled princess, but one who had helped clean and care after the children in conditions of abject poverty. A woman with no morals, but one who had the trust of the mother superior - who often praised her graces to him when she stopped by the ward.
He wanted to avoid her, to forget her, but more often than not he would find himself seeing her from afar, hugging the children and doing hand games with them, playing the tattered piano, or hauling water from the convent's well. He marveled about her laugh, clear like the water from the spring, when she carried Shippo and put him on her lap, or when she talked with Sango during their lunch break. Kagome became alive in the midst of such horror, and it broke his heart anew to see that he, as her husband, had never been able to make her happy.